


Safe in the Ache of Soul Decay

by Steamcraft



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Doctor Who, Alternate Universe - Fusion, M/M, Merwho, Soul Bond, Soulmates, Teacher-Student Relationship, Wholin, graphic edits, odd chronological order
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-03 04:12:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1065608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steamcraft/pseuds/Steamcraft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>It starts with a war as old as Time itself. </i><br/> </p><p>In battle there are many casualties. The Lord President knows this, but the King refuses to let it happen. In battle he's distracted; the Emrys is on the battlefront, and the King will do anything to make sure they both get out of this alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safe in the Ache of Soul Decay

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [Neglected Space by Imogen Heap](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3dW2FFkXIdM), which is basically what helps me write this story.

__

_these are the beginnings; they are told all at once._

 

> [passage 528: index 329.99b " _Nature of the Second and the Interchangeable Days_ ", written by Professor of the Monmouth: _Time fluctuates as though events occurred simultaneously instead of a consecutive line from start to finish. There is no such thing as chronological order, of a past and future; there is no way to alter a person's life: they will take the path they want, regardless. This, however, does not include Fixed Events._ ]

 

They met at the Initiation Ceremony.

Merlin of the House of Dragonlord was brought to the torch-lit circle in the dead of night by the Ovate and the Tempest. The King stood beside the Dragon on one side of the Untempered Schism, the Lord President and the Bard on the other. They watched as the young man tore his arms out of the Time Ladies' grips and stepped back with a wary expression.

The King could relate. When he himself stood in front of the Schism, he'd been dragged out of bed by members of the High Counsel without warning, not told where he was going or why. So when Merlin shot each of them a dark glare, the King stared straight ahead unsympathetically; by the looks of it, he'd been younger than Merlin when he looked into the raw vortex.

"I don't want to be a Time Lord," Merlin said angrily. "You don't need a half-life, not when I'll have only three, four regenerations after finishing the education."

The Lord President glanced at the Dragon, a frown pulling his mouth. "You didn't mention this, Dragon."

"Did I not?" Even without seeing the light smirk on his face, the Dragon's tone clearly said he withheld the vital information intentionally. It also wasn't something easily forgettable: recruiting half-lives into the Academies was practically a waste of time when they didn't have as many regenerations to spend on the battlefront. "My mistake, Lord President," he said sardonically.

"This is unacceptable," the Lord President said furiously, and his face colored with it. The King felt his lips tighten and his shoulders tense at the quick change of atmosphere. "The Child was to be the only exception!"

The Bard cleared his throat meaningfully. "No disrespect, Lord President, but the Dragon isn't the only soothsayer among us."

All eyes landed on the Ovate who raised her chin defiantly at their leader. "I had Seen him, first," she confirmed, and said no more; the theory of Choice over Fate was still a cautious superstition that no Time Lord or Lady trifled with lightly. Her admission didn't make it better for the Lord President, and he scoffed at her.

"How many things Seen have come to pass?"

Merlin shuffled where he stood, and attention drew to him immediately. The King sighed quietly for Merlin's sake, seeming so out of place and wanting to just crawl back into bed, and wondered how this disorganized dispute looked to him. "Well, whatever it is, I'm sure you can find another participant. A willing one. My Lords," he inclined his head deeply, turned to the dark and light haired women with the same bow, "My Ladies."

A nudge in his ribs made the King glance at the the Dragon, who raised an eyebrow at him, gesturing towards the retreating man. In truth, this was the third initiate the Lord President had turned away, like they _weren't_ searching for qualified Time Lords. It was irritating, the King agreed, because this was leading to be a waste of time.

He called, tauntingly, "Aw, don't run away!" Merlin stopped.

"Arthur," the Lord President chided. "What are you doing?"

"All have a chance to be Time Lords," he replied. "Yes, he's a half-life, but the Child was Seen by the Dragon. Seen by both the Dragon and the Ovate, do you believe you should dismiss him so easily?"

"I believe we should be making decisions that will strengthen our numbers in the long run."

"Don't be prejudice, Uther," the Dragon snorted. "Who's to say he would even fight? The pacifists are growing, you know."

The King addressed Merlin, still and waiting. "There's more to being a Time Lord than joining the Elite, I'm sure you know. You could do something worthwhile in your regenerations after the Academy, otherwise what is there than farming. Don't run away."

The silence stretched a couple seconds before Merlin turned around. "From you?"

A grin stretched the King's face unbidden. "Do you need to prove something? Stand in front of the Untempered Schism if you think you can handle it."

 

 

 

It was going against their vows, but Merlin felt it was necessary; in any case, he would tell Arthur after it was done, when it was too late to withdraw.

The grin came unwarranted to his face; now wasn't _that_ the definition of their relationship in a nutshell? Risk-taking actions for the sake of the other’s safety, disregarding their own.

The Dragon was flipping through paper work when the Emrys entered the office, but he didn't look up to inform him, "I'll have it ready in a moment." When there wasn't a response, he set his pen down and returned the incredulous expression on the Emrys' face with patience.

"You're not surprised?"

A smile stretched the Dragon's lips. "Surprised, yet prepared." He tapped at his temple with a long fingernail. "Just because I See, doesn't mean I know." The Dragon sat back in his seat and steepled his hands in front of his body.

"You want to join the Elite," he said, not a question; the Emrys knew the Dragon knew at least that much, so he didn't bother it with an answer. He watched as the Dragon pulled at papers beneath papers before finding what he needed and making a stack. "Have you thought about this? You have only a few regenerations remaining; the chances--"

"I know," he interrupted. At the Dragon's raised eyebrow, the Emrys flushed. "I- I know, okay? I want to be out there, I want to make sure the King is safe. At the end of the day, I want to be able to bring him home."

The Dragon studied him a little longer before exhaling a suffering sigh. "There are others better suited for this, Emrys, than a half-spent half-life," the Council Elder advised not unkindly.

The Emrys shook his head and brought his hands to the center of his chest, feeling the flutter of the newly formed bond lying just underneath and between his hearts. "There's no one else but me and him," he replied, determined. The Dragon gave him an inscrutable expression before pushing the forms toward him.

"Sign the lines with your House name. Here, too.” After the Emrys straightened, the Dragon said, “It’s a dangerous path. Being an Elite Time Lord is nothing to joke about; you lost a regeneration during basic field training while fighting with your team. Signing up for the frontline, you’re on your own, on enemy territory.”

The Emrys nodded shortly, releasing a long breath. He knew what the job entitled, heard it from Arthur when his crew returned from a mission. Merlin would trace old scars that didn’t quite cause a regeneration with his fingers, feeling the four-pattern heartbeat against his ears, listen to the slow breathing while Arthur slept. As much as Merlin was the King’s touchstone, Arthur was a touchstone for the Emrys; he did not want to be left waiting one day.

Unable to convey this empathetically, the Emrys simply said, “I understand, and I’m prepared.”

“I wasn’t suggesting you weren’t, but you can’t let yourself become distracted when everything jumps off the deep end.” He leaned back in his chair to watch him again. “You are destined to do wonders, Merlin. The sacrifices are going to be very real and very damaging, but I believe in you.”

“Lord Dragon...?”

 

 

 

  
Finally, after the long moment of internal debating, Merlin faced the Untempered Schism with the stance of a man about to flee. The Lord President’s disapproving muttering fell quiet to witness Merlin’s reaction to the horrifyingly magnificent raw power of Time in all universes.

The King remembered his own reaction: shaken to the core, yet determinedly standing firm. He hadn’t ran because his father was watching, but because the Schism greeted him with an overwhelming presence of truth. To be afraid, for it was merciless; to be strong, for it was fair and there to guide.

Merlin became slack-jawed, staring into the vortex with awe, but his hands trembled violently at his sides until they couldn’t just hang there any longer: an arm reached out toward the vortex, stretching to the point where he would topple over if he could reach further.

The Dragon said something beside him, but the King wasn’t listening.

Then, Time reached for Merlin.

Golden tendrils spun from the ripped vortex and touched the hand waiting for it. Merlin made a sound that was not unlike a sobbing laugh at the connection, but his eyes never left the Schism, didn’t seem to even notice the tendrils of power twirling up and around his arm. The King moved a single step, but the Dragon caught his arm.

“Wait,” he said when the King glanced at him. “Just watch.”

The King jerked his arm away. “The Vortex could rip him apart!” The tendrils reached his shoulder, and the King couldn’t stay still any longer. He had goaded him to look into the Untempered Schism, Arthur wasn’t going to let unnecessary danger come to Merlin.

His feet moved before he realised they were, shouting, “Merlin!”

“Arthur!” came the shouts of the High Council. The half-life started, head twisting to stare at him, and the King was taken back, nearly stopped by what he saw: Merlin’s eyes glowed with the Vortex’s essence. Without thinking, Arthur grabbed Merlin’s outstretched arm---

 _the face and the tail are still the same coin, self-made, i’m falling apart, beaten in a losing battle punctured by nature, entropy increasing, tightly-woven, this destiny is traversed through Time itself, inside and out, one life, two, two hearts, four_ \-- the voice echoed to their ears only, setting their pulses pounding. For those quick seconds, they were bonded in a way too intimate for strangers; Arthur felt the rising alarm in Merlin, Merlin felt the strong curiosity in Arthur.

They were both on the ground, shaking from the aftereffects. The King groaned and opened his eyes, watching as the connection broke between Merlin and the Untempered Schism, the light fading from his wide blue eyes slowly.

“What--”

“Arthur!” The council members pulled the pair of them up, and the King released Merlin’s arm belatedly. His father was speaking to him, the Ovate and Dragon checking for damages, but Arthur didn’t look away from Merlin, speechless, and whatever had come over him had obviously affected the half-life, as well.

But nothing was said. They didn’t speak of what they experienced, and Merlin went home, and the King had duties to attend. It was nothing, though, it had to be nothing.

 

 

 

  
“I believe in the changes you will cause, and the strength you have to overcome the challenges set far from this here and now. The Ovate and I are both looking forward to know what your full destiny entitles.”

The Emrys raised an eyebrow. “Is that allowed, cryptically giving me hints as to what you’ve Seen?”

“Words of encouragement, Emrys,” he smirked. “No need to analyse everything a Seer says.” The Emrys laughed at that, but the smile was wiped from his face when the Dragon asked, “What will you tell Lord King?”

He grimaced. What _would_ he say? Arthur would be furious, or close to it, and would possibly try to alter his missions or keep him off the field for an undetermined amount of time. Needless to say, however, Merlin wouldn’t keep this from him no matter how difficult it would be to bring up. While being overprotective was a trait found in both of them, they trusted each other without a doubt.

The Emrys told the Dragon as much, leaving the office with a firm handshake.

It was harder in practice:

Upon entering their home, Merlin saw the pilot keys hanging from the post, symbolising Arthur’s return. He smelled the dinner Arthur was cooking and quietly followed it to the kitchen, watching Arthur stir the pot while humming. When Arthur caught sight of him, the smile Merlin received was blinding.

“Welcome home,” Merlin said as he went to him, leaning into him. Their hands sought the other’s, and it was like experiencing double-vision. There was reassurance for the overwhelming relief, tranquil understanding for the leftover anxiety. Appreciation, fondness, emotions without words and known only through touch.

“Arthur...” he whispered, and Arthur responded with light kisses. Their fingers entwined and tightened their hold. Arthur made an inquisitive noise when the hesitation grew in Merlin and his kisses slowed.  
Arthur drew back, one hand cupping Merlin’s cheek, searching his face, and seeing nothing but determination.“Merlin, what is it?”

It was a moment before Merlin answered, hearts fluttering, his expression turning guilty under Arthur’s concern. It was now or later, when Arthur would look at the new recruit list, when Arthur would be about to board with his crew and have lives in his care when his mind was elsewhere. "I signed up for the war, Arthur.”

Arthur’s mouth set in a firm line, and Merlin felt a flash of Arthur’s fear and fury before he slipped away from him, turning his back towards Merlin. Merlin wrung his hands together, the separation sudden and cold and leaving him feeling oddly abandoned through their bond.

“Arthur--” he tried for chiding, but Arthur shot him a dark look over his shoulder.

“What were you _thinking_ , Merlin?” His voice is barely restrained from yelling at him, but Merlin flinched as if struck. He could handle angry; Arthur was angry, but he was also desperately afraid. “Isn’t one of us fighting the Essetirians enough? Do you think I don’t worry enough about you, here by yourself and wondering if I’m alive at the end of the day? Damn it, Merlin...” Arthur scrubbed a hand over his face.

Merlin frowned at him. “Don’t ‘damn it Merlin’ me. I rather be in those battleships than here alone. When you’re gone for months...” He swallowed, remembering those silent mornings and creeping nights. “I won’t do that anymore, Arthur. Together, or not at all.”

Arthur laughed humorlessly. “I don’t have a choice, Merlin. Being the Lord President’s son, I’m expected to fight for Albion, but you-- Merlin, you’re a _pacifist_. Having you-- I’m fighting for us now, so we can live peacefully. _Sign out before you get started_.”

“No,” Merlin replied firmly, reaching for him. Arthur tensed under his touch but he didn’t move away, so he let his hands slip into Arthur’s again. There was a sadness that nearly had Merlin in tears, a heartache that made his stomach clench at the grief. Knowing he could feel it, Arthur’s strong face crumpled and the agony showed. Merlin sensed the reason for this: Arthur was worried the war was going to destroy him, ruin and take away everything Arthur fell in love with, everything that Arthur used as a touchstone, his innocence and kindness, his humanity and ignorance.

“No,” he said again, softer. He brought Arthur’s palm to his lips and kissed it, then held it to his cheek. “I won’t leave you, and you can’t shake me.”

“You’re on your third life.”

“You’re on your fifth.”

“No, Merlin, its not the same. You have four regenerations left at most, less if they manage to kill you before you regenerate. I don’t want to see you dead, Krayliss.”

 _Krayliss_. Merlin’s hearts leaped at the reminder, as if the bonded-touch wasn’t enough. Krayliss, the hearts and soul, reason and doubtlessness. The ground and center. Krayliss, the everything. Arthur brought their joined hands between them, closer to the connection. They felt the gentle thrum.

It was a moment before Merlin said anything, trying to wash all of his sureness and comfort over Arthur.

“You won’t,” Merlin whispered, finally. “I swear it. You’ll look after me, and I’ll look after you.”

There was still a deep-seated worry that Merlin couldn’t even touch, but Arthur was trusting him, and that was enough.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

>  **Lord President** : Uther  
>  **The King** : Arthur  
>  **The Bard** : Taliesin  
>  **The Dragon** : Kilgharrah  
>  **The Ovate** : Morgana  
>  **The Tempest** : Morgause  
>  **The Child** : Mordred
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://iblameitonmyadhd.tumblr.com)


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